


It's Actually Normal

by Chaosia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, BAMF!Stiles, Creature!Stiles, Death is bossy and old, Freeform-Death, M/M, Possessive!Peter, Protective!Peter, Sterek-Bromance, Stiles and Derek are BFFs 5ever, Though no one knows exactly what he is, Will add more tags as I go, especially by Death, lots of cockblocking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaosia/pseuds/Chaosia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows his life will never be relatively normal ever again when Death starts coming to <i>him</i> for favors ---  and that includes having lunch with him on Tuesdays.  Is it weird that Stiles has lunch with Death every Tuesday? Peter seems to think so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own Teen Wolf

The way he was sprawled over the bed did things to Peter. The room was a good 60 degrees and yet the thick comforter was nowhere to be seen and the thin sheet was kicked down to his knees. He could see all the scars collected from over the years, littering Stiles' body like a permanent brand. The scar that stood out most amongst the others, placed on his back, was from him. He remembers the day it happened like it was yesterday. It was a mark that showed and reminded everyone that Stiles belonged to him and only him.

The slow rise of his breaths were lulling him, encouraging him to fall into slumber like the man on the bed. Peter refused the pull, content with sitting on the window seat and just watching Stiles sleep like he had no care in the world. He probably didn't have a care, plenty satisfied with the knowledge that his own personal werewolf guard was protecting him. Stiles wasn't supposed to know, but of course, the man was too smart for his own good and figured Peter was stalking him within a couple of days him being followed. That was years ago though, and now Peter was fine with tagging along with him in plain view, always amused by their discussions and witty banter.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." The sleepy voice pierced through Peter's trance, making him grin.

"Already did, multiple times in multiple positions on multiple occasions." He humored. "My favorite is always the one where you're pleasuring yourself to my image."

Stiles snorted, shifting to snuggle closer against his pillow.

"How do you know it was to you and not someone else?"

"Because you screamed my name when you came."

"You do know I know about 4 other Peter's right?"

Peter grinned. Even while half asleep, Stiles still managed to snark back. It's one of the things that drew Peter to him, like a moth to a flame. Stiles could take Peter head on in a verbal engagement, match him par-to-par in challenge. He got up from his perch and stalked towards the bed, like a predator to his prey. He carefully climbed over Stiles, resting his body along the length of him, settling down to lick a strip up the back of his neck. His teeth, already fangs by this point, lightly scrape the pale flesh there, causing goose bumps to erupt.

"All of which are dead. Unless that's one of your kinks?" He nibbled, making a small bruise there. "I can work with that. I died once didn't I?"

"Hm, I always knew you were some sort of zombie." His breath hitched as Peter's teeth traced their way down to his shoulder and pressed until indentions of them were left on his skin.

"I'm not a zombie and you know it." His lips brushed teasing behind Stiles' ear, making him shiver.

Peter smirked when the scent of arousal drifted into his nose. Stiles was always more agreeable to sex when he was half asleep. Peter reached his hand between his boyfriend and the bed, roughly palmed his semi-hard cock through his boxers. Stiles moaned, moving his hips closer to get more friction. Peter busied himself licking a trail down his spine, to the curve of his lower back, biting a bit to the side in one of Stiles' many erogenous zones.

"Nng, cheater!" He panted, reaching a hand down to tug at Peter's hair to get him to let up on the abuse.

" 'M not. My teeth happen to have slipped there."

"Slipped there my ass."

"Hmm, and what a lovely ass it is indeed." He pulled the boxers down to his knees, too impatient to even get them fully off.

Without the fabric barrier, Peter's hand wound around the young man's cock, pumping him to a full erection. His tongue dove further down, its goal being Stiles' puckered hole. He twirled around it, his free hand pushing the globes of Stiles' ass apart for better access. He pushed his tongue in, drawing out moans and stuttered versions of his name. Stiles' hips rocking back against the wet appendage, trying to get more within him.

Peter's hand pumped and twisted Stiles' dick like he knew his boyfriend liked, straying a few more seconds to tease the head before sliding back down the shaft and repeat. Pre-come gathered at the tip and was smeared by Peter's fingers, making the hand job go a little more smoothly. The werewolf grabbed the bottle of lube stashed under the extra pillow not being used by Stiles, and slicked his fingers up to add to his tongue action. He took his time easing Stiles open (loved to see how wrecked he could make him, panting and blushing and _moaning_ ) and searching for his prostate. Halfway through, he found the pleasure knob, making sure to hit it when he pulled his figure out.

"Peter, Peter _please_!" He whimpered, hands fisted tightly in his sheets. "Stop, stop! I'm ready, I'm so totally ready!"

"Ready for what?" Peter asked, because let's face it. He's always going to have an evil part of him somewhere in his body, and it just so happens to enjoy teasing the shit out of Stiles amongst other things.

"You! In me, just- _please_!" Stiles reverted into single words as Peter mercilessly kept rubbing his figures against his prostate. "Peter! Peter Peter Peter! Just- _fuck_! Fuck just _do_ me already!"

The older man chuckled. "Not good enough Stiles. Come on; use those words you're always so fond of."

Stiles sobbed from the abuse of his prostate. "Fuck me already damnit! Claim me, mark me whatever! I'm close, I'm so close! I need…your cock…in me- _now_!" He managed to choke out.

That was enough for Peter to get a move on; he was impatient this time too. He pushed his sweat pants down enough to free his erection. "As you wish." He lubed up his cock in a couple of strokes before placing his head at Stiles' entrance ready to push in.

A knock on the door sounded, and Stiles was close to wailing in despair. He even went as far as telling Peter to ignore whoever was there and just freaking give it to him and make him come already. And Peter was all for that plan, really he was, so close to saying fuck it and fucking Stiles, but he knew he couldn't. Not with who was standing outside their door. Not with the _sense_ he was getting from beyond the door. Sighing out his loss, Peter pulled away from the wrecked looking man and whispered for him to go take a cold shower and get dressed while tugging his own pants back on properly.

He made sure to close the bedroom door before he could see Stiles get up and renew his already deflated dick back to life with the temptation that was Stiles' body. The door was opened before the guest could knock again. An old man stood there, donning a black suit and a typical cut diamond tipped cane in front of him. Peter recognized the man immediately and stepped back to invite him in. He did so with a nod, walking to the couch with familiar ease. Peter held the urge to wrinkle his nose at the scent that wafted from the old gentleman. It was an elusive scent that couldn't be described in words, but if Peter had to name it, it'd be that of Death.

The werewolf didn't bother with offering anything to drink or food, it wasn't his place to, and the creature before him didn't require it. Instead, he listened in to what Stiles was doing; from the sound of it he was putting on some clothes. Not a second later, the bedroom door opened and he padded out in sweatpants and one of Peter's t-shirts. Peter had to hold back a smirk at that, taking up his place at Stiles' side. He did, however, take a whiff of the mixed scent of him and Stiles, a low inaudible rumble of satisfaction vibrated within his chest.

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, face set in seriousness. "To what do we own this visit?"

The smile the old man gave was cold, calculating, and cruel. It set both of them on edge just seeing it. Peter's wolf growled, a curl of protectiveness echoing through his body to stand in front of Stiles and hide him from the predator before them. But he didn't out of respect to his boyfriend. He's had the rant about that one too many times before it sunk in that only when the creature is going to attack can he push Stiles behind him. He hated it but he was willing to give this much to Stiles.

"I have another favor to ask of you."

"Favor?" Stiles raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

Peter wondered about his tone. And what was this about _another_ request? This guy had come to Stiles once before? Where the hell was he? For 10 years, following the events of Beacon Hills, he's always been with Stiles so then when…? Peter didn't let his confusion and frustration show, keeping his face carefully blank.

"You've yet to repay your first favor, why would I take another?" Stiles asked.

The man smiled predatorily, making Peter's hackles rise. He had to look away before his flickering eyes could give him away how little control he was having. "I've paid my debt, Young One, you just didn't know it." He tilted his head to the side.

Peter thought nothing of it other than to make the creature look more human it paraded around to be. But Stiles seized up, shoulders as tense as a bow and fingers digging into his arm and side. "What do you want?" His tone became hostile and said through clenched teeth. Stiles didn't have his advantage (whatever it was) anymore. After this was all done and over with, Peter was going to get some answers out of his boyfriend one way or another.

"Are you accepting?" The old man seemed to be enjoying their discomfort. Peter'll show _him_ discomfort when he can sink his claws into that mother fucker's neck and-

"Depends."

"You know how I work Stiles. Either you accept or don't."

It was moments like these that Stiles cursed his own curiosity and the burning desire to 'need to know'. He didn't have to accept the offer, and he knew it. Knew it was in his and Peter's best interest to decline and kick the old geezer out of their apartment. So he knew nothing good could come from this. So he was hating himself to hell and back when he found himself muttering "I Accept".

The human-like creature smiled all teeth. "Perfect." His dead blue eyes tore themselves from Stiles and fixated on the werewolf.

With narrowed eyes, Stiles hissed, "He stays" drawing those blue eyes back onto him.

"As you wish." Even without his supernatural hearing, Peter could hear his boyfriend's teeth grind together at the phrase. The scent of anger dripped from every one of Stiles' pores, oozing a dark aura about him. Only a few short minutes ago, that was Peter whispering those three words into his skin.

"I have a devil problem I need you to take care of."

"I'm not a hunter. I have perfectly good hunter friends you can go to."

"My problem's not that simple and you know they can't handle it." He said matter of fact.

"I don't know, I think they can. You may have even met them once." From the smirk Stiles was sporting, it wasn't hard for Peter to guess he was talking about those two crazy ass brothers. Hopefully they won't ever run into them again.

"My deal's with you and it'll stay that way." The old man's smile turned thin and tight, annoyance empowering his tone.

A low growl sounded as Peter stepped forward with all intent and purposes to rip the geezer apart but an arm stopped him. Stiles gently pushed him back, not once taking his eyes off their guest. He squeezed Peter's side, silently telling him to calm down and keep under control. He did as suggested, letting the growl die off.

"What do you want?" The young man asked again seeing as he didn't get an actual answer to his earlier question.

The man smiled at the demand like he was politely asked if he wanted some tea. Like he was glad Stiles asked him again.

"One of the right hands have something of mine that I want back."

"Why can't you get it back yourself?"

His smile goes thin and tense and Peter was tempted to grin at his discomfort like he did them.

"If I could I wouldn't have come to you."

Stiles nodded his fair point. "Fair enough. What is it we're getting?" Because of course Peter was going to tag along, and it's sweet of Stiles to remember that fact.

Their guest says nothing at the 'we' and ignores it to answer. "A ring."

"A ring?" The guy was going through all this trouble for a mere ring? What was his problem?

"Yes."

"A description would be nice." Because God forbid, they didn't get the right one.

"You'll know it when you see it." What complete crap was that!? "I want it before the end of next month."

_Seriously?_

"Seriously? You're putting on a time limit?" Stiles couldn't believe it, neither could the werewolf. He was coming to them, not the other way around here!

"It's important."

Stiles rolled his eyes, just about done with this conversation.

"Any other helpful information you may have forgotten to tell me?" Because they both know this motherfucker was fine holding out on them. Maybe to give them grief and frustration he could laugh at behind their backs. Stiles wouldn't put it passed him.

"I'd start with Axel."

Stiles opens his mouth, probably to complain, when half of the old geezer's face dissolves into transparency, showing off a skull for a face. The shadows in the living room darken and seemed to be pulled towards the creature on the couch. Peter immediately shoved Stiles behind him, eyes changed and claws out, growling at the sight before them. The darkness spiraled around the couch, making it impossible for even Peter's werewolf sight to see the old man before, in a blink of an eye, they dissipated and their guest was gone.

Peter almost jumped when he felt Stiles' head fall between his shoulder blades, he was that tense. He felt the hot breath of his lover as he sighed out and relaxed now that the threat was gone from their home. Stiles' fingers dug into the werewolf's exposed back, leaving bloody trails down as he clawed, letting himself go slack and unguarded. The shallow marks faded quickly, leaving only the dots of blood to remain.

Stiles sighed. "I hate that guy."

Peter couldn't agree more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own Teen Wolf
> 
> Unbeta-ed

"So you want to tell me what that was?"

After their guest had left, the couple had shuffled back to the bedroom where Stiles proceeded to try and seduce Peter but it fell flat. The mood was lost and killed somewhere in the woods, and neither (no matter how much they wanted to) couldn't get it up after _that_ disaster. So Stiles went back to bed and Peter went back to being a creep and watching his partner.

It was when morning came that Stiles found himself in a kinky position. He was hogtied using their multiple sets of handcuffs, the padded ones on his wrists. Originally those were the ones Stiles bought for them, but with Peter getting arrested (more than once by his father) the collection started growing as Peter _miraculously_ escaped from the cops (still handcuffed) every time. He turned his head to the side, trying to spy where his boyfriend was. He couldn't find him and figured he was on his blindside.

So he laid there for a few minutes just waiting. A few minutes turned into 30 that turned into 45. By then half of his body was almost if not completely numb from the position they were forced into. His neck was starting to cramp when the bedroom door opened, bringing a clean and dressed Peter and the smell of breakfast.

"Are you kidding me? You weren't even home!?" Peter raised an eyebrow, leisurely taking a sip of his sweet smelling coffee.

He took a bite of bagel (that Stiles just noticed he also had) chewing as he answered with a "yup".

"Dude, that's so not cool! Did you at least get me something?" It's the least the bastard could've done seeing as _he's_ not all tied up. And it wasn't even for kinky sex! At least he thought it wasn't. The young man was still in his pj's. And he'll slaughter Peter if he rips his clothes to shreds again, he's tired of buying new clothes, the sales lady looks at him funny.

"Nope." Stiles was forced to watch as the older man plopped the last of the delicious looking bagel into his mouth.

Peter couldn't help the cruel smirk that appeared at his boyfriend's expression. Really, the guy was too easy. It was a wonder that Peter wasn't completely cured of his sadistic tendencies. Not with Stiles' many intriguing facial expressions. He liked these the best.

"So you want to tell me what that was?"

"Is that why you tied me up like a pig? My arms and legs are numb, I can't feel them! And if I have to get them amputated just because you left me like this for so long I'll get Derek to strangle you for me!" Peter rolled his eyes and scoffed at the dramatics.

"I know how long it takes for your body to come to that Stiles, hardly an hour would cut it."

"Where the hell did you go that you took an hour!? And should I even bother asking how you know how long limbs have to be numb before their amputated?"

"Oh, to Angeline's down the street. And I have my ways…" He sighed at the look Stiles was giving him. "Oh, the wonders of the internet, Stiles. The things we can learn from it. Just imagine."

"Shut it, you jerk. And Angeline's only takes 10 minutes to walk to!"

Peter shrugged nonchalantly and slinked over to the chair conveniently placed by the bed right in front of Stiles' view.

"I was stopped and chatted to on the way there and then I decided to eat in instead of getting my breakfast to go."

The glare Stiles gave made the insides of Peter tingle. Usually, when they fight and that glare was introduced, at the end of the argument, angry sex always resulted. It was best kind of sex in Peter's opinion because then he could be rough and it would be reciprocated and he didn't have to hold all of him back. But this wasn't a fight and Peter refuses to let Stiles seduce him away from what he wants. Answers. He especially wants to know what was up with that old man last night.

He could see the struggle as Stiles tried to slip out of the cuff but they were on tight. Peter asked again, relaxing back into the chair, silently telling the tied up man that he had time and the patience. Stiles pulled and tugged a few more times before going limp and pouting. They remained silent for a while, waiting for the other to talk or do something.

As usual, Stiles was the first to break the silence.

"What do you want to know?" Despite the easy give, Peter knew it wasn't going to be a walk in the park gaining the complete truth from him. But he was experienced with this; had known Stiles too long to not know his tricks and how to deflect them.

"Who was that guy first off?" Peter's seen him around here and there over the years, but never really pursued anything dealing with the man. He wasn't a threat (those fleeting glimpses) and best to leave the guy to his own devices and just worry about Stiles. But perhaps he should have dug into the matter. Stiles, after all, is a magnet for trouble.

"He calls himself Death." That would explain the scent. "Not really a clue what supernatural creature he is though." The shrug was stilted due to the handcuffs.

"How do you know him? He mentioned coming to you once before."

"He did, back when we were still in Beacon Hills. At that time, you were dead…that's why you didn't know of it." Stiles continued on, knowing what the werewolf was going to ask. "And no I'm not gonna tell you what he wanted."

Peter didn't push the declaration, and he also didn't ask what it was that Stiles got in return for the favor. He knew he wasn't going to get those answers so soon, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to ask them later on. Stiles was smart, he knew Peter knew something was up, and by his tense shoulders, was expecting the questions. So he was surprised when instead Peter asked about devils.

"You know as well as I that there are more supernatural out there than we know. It turns out that heaven and hell, the whole shebang exists."

"I know Stiles. I've died remember? I had to go somewhere." Peter's voice of soft and somber. His whole body stiffened, claws tearing into his sleeve to imbed themselves into his flesh beneath. His eyes flashed bright and stayed in their wolf color as his face became closed off. This was the first time talking about his afterlife. He still had nightmares about it but kept it to himself. Sometimes when he is alone, he'd relapse into that stupor where he couldn't decide if he was out of hell or not, if all this was a dream. Stiles never thought about that, Peter never gave him a reason too. He kept it simple as to him dying and Lydia bringing him back and nothing else. He didn't _want_ anything else.

Though now he planted the idea into his boyfriend's mind.

"And besides, those hunter brothers had an Angel with them."

"They did? What the hell why didn't you tell me?"

Peter shrugged. "Never asked, and I thought you were smart enough to figure it out yourself. Clearly I was wrong." He sneered.

"Hey! I was busy okay? Excuse me for not noticing there was an angel in my presence. Sides, I saw no _wings_." Peter let his claws retract, his body calming down in the face of their familiar banter routine.

"If you did you'd be dead. He was the weird one in the trench coat." He detached his hands from his arms and instead rested them on the chair's handles. "What gave you the idea that heaven and hell existed in the first place?"

Stiles blushed. He tried moving his head down, glancing away but Peter still saw his rosy cheeks. "I kind of snuck several glances into their journal/bestiary thing." Peter rolled his eyes.

_Of course_.

"Any who, devils. I was just guessing Death meant demons or something seeing as there's only _one_ devil, and he's locked in a cage downstairs according to the giant one."

"And this Axel he mentioned?"

"More than likely a demon we have to find to get answers from." Stiles made a bitch face. "Do you know how hard that's going to be? How hard tracking and finding demons are? Their journal wasn't very clear on the specifics on it. And finding anything on the internet about it is going to be like looking for a needle in a needle stack."

"If anyone can find anything on the internet Stiles, it's you." He moved towards the bed, pulling out the key to the handcuffs (which were stashed in between Stiles' feet and rope, much to his displeasure at not feeling it) and released the young man. "Now hurry up and get to it, we have a time limit to adhere to."

Stiles rubbed at his wrist and feet, trying to get blood back into them. "That's it?"

"Yeah. I don't see why not, it's not like we have anything better to do. Neither you or me actually _work_." He was also interested in what was so important about a ring.

"Fine, go get me some breakfast, I'm starving."

Peter scoffed. "Yeah, right." He left the room, smirking a little at the curses yelled at his back.

In the end, he did get Stiles his food.

* * *

 

"What?" The gruff voice of Derek Hale answered after the third ring.

"Don't sound so excited Sourwolf. It's nice to hear from you too."

There was a long suffering sigh from the other end.

" _What do you want Stiles?_ " He asked as if Stiles was the last person he wanted to hear from.

"I need your Camaro."

" _ **No**_." He shot down immediately.

"What? Why?"

" _Because the last time you were near my baby you almost totaled her_."

Stiles scoffed. "Puh- _lease_. That was absolutely not my fault! I wasn't even driving it! You were!"

" _You were in the passenger seat and you still manage to somehow almost crash her_."

"Dude (" _Don't call me dude Stiles!_ ") how is that even possible? I had no control over the car what so ever. You didn't even let me touch the radio!" He complained.

" _For good reason too! Who knows what you would have done to it!_ "

Moving the phone from his mouth (Derek could still hear him anyways) Stiles called to the bedroom where his boyfriend was lounging on the couch reading.

"Peter! You're nephews being an asshole to me!"

" _Stiles!_ " Derek's voice screamed from the phone. " _Don't bring my uncle into this!_ "

"Tell him to be nice to you!" Peter called back, unconcerned.

"Peter said to be nice to me asshat."

Stiles could practically hear Derek rolling his eyes at him and grinding his teeth down in frustration.

" _My answer is still no. You are not. Driving. My car._ "

"But I need it!" Stiles' tone of voice could definitely be described as full on whining.

" _You have your own car Stiles. And if you wanted a sports car I'm sure you can persuade Peter into getting you one. Now if that's all I'm gonna hang up_."

"But I need it like, soon and I'm pretty sure you rigged the crap out of it that it's not even street legal."

" _No, Stiles. It's not up for discussion_."

"Peter!" Stiles grinned at the sigh he heard over the connection. "Please tell Derek we need his car!"

There was nothing for a moment or two and Stiles pouted knowing Peter was staying out of it. He tried again to get the same result. He could hear Derek's smug grin through the phone. Derek could never win against the tag team of Stiles and Peter no matter what it was. Derek knew this, Stiles and Peter knew this. So Stiles liked to use it to his advantage whenever possible but Peter was a douchebag and picked his battles. This one was clearly not being of his interest. But it should be, dammit, they needed Derek's car!

"Please Derek! I swear I won't wreck your car! I'll take good care of her. I'll treat her like I treat my jeep; with love. Please? Come on, I need your car!"

" _My answer's final Stiles._ No." And the bastard hung up on him.

"See if I ever get you anything for your birthday again asshat." He hung the phone down into its cradle and made his way into their bedroom, a decision already made in his mind.

Peter was still splayed on the couch, booked resting over his chest as he looked up at Stiles raising an eyebrow.

"We're leaving. Get packed." Stiles marched passed the couch to the large walk in closet, digging around in search for their suit case.

"Where, pray tell, are we going?"

"Where else? We're going to go harass Derek into lending us his car." He came back out with his prize and dumped it onto the unmade bed and started to gather shirts and all.

Peter watched him move around, raising his other eyebrow when his boyfriend started to pack his clothing as well. Shaking his head lightly, Peter bookmarked his place and returned the book back on the shelf with all the others. He knew Stiles was in one of his determined moods. Whatever idea he has stuck in his brain he'll do whatever he can to get it accomplished. It was hard to shake Stiles from doing whatever it is he was wanting to do, so Peter did the only he could do. Follow along and make sure Stiles stayed out of trouble.

Besides, it's been a while since they last been to Beacon Hills and seen his nephew. And going by their conversation earlier, it was going to be an interesting visit. Peter was absolutely positive Derek has no idea what was coming to him.

He chuckled.

"Don't forget to get our ticket's Stiles. We're going to need those."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chatper, hopd you enjoyed it :)
> 
> Let me know what you think ~ Chaosia

**Author's Note:**

> So something new, this is one of my free time stories, meaning this will be updated when i have free time. If i get a lot of response to this, i'll make an effort to post every Monday.
> 
> Thanks to my beta for editing this!
> 
> Let me know what you think ~ Chaosia


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